


Qiviut

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bilbo made Lindir a sweater.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 5
Kudos: 106





	Qiviut

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For most of the winter, it’s much too cold for Bilbo’s old bones to handle, and he prefers to stay inside, warming his feet up by the fire. There was a time when he walked through mountains that chilled him right through, and he slept in drenched clothes while the rain pelted down on him, but that was long ago, when he was still young and full of life. Now Bilbo values comfort more than most things, though he still enjoys the thought of _adventure_. He funnels that into his song and stories. When he’s finished knitting himself a nice, thick scarf to combat the cool winds that rustle through the valley, he decides to venture out again. The snow is fresh but the air is clear, and he thinks he could do with a brisk walk through the gardens, maybe with a minstrel at his side, playing a gentle melody that he can sing to. 

His favourite minstrel is Lord Elrond’s attendant, set up in quarters not far from Bilbo’s. He heads straight there and knocks on the wooden door—the sound echoes twice before Lindir comes to answer.

He opens up and smiles down at Bilbo, as he always does, so much warmer now than when they first met, back when Bilbo was flanked by dwarves. Now Bilbo considers Lindir a dear friend, and he thinks Lindir must feel the same. It’s evident in the way he wears the sweater Bilbo made for him, even though Lindir has plenty of fine Elven garments to bundle up in through the cold. Bilbo had quite expected Lindir to try the sweater _over_ such robes, but apparently, he should’ve been more clear in his instructions. Lindir seems to be wearing the sweater _as_ a robe, even though it’s nowhere near long enough and cuts off just past his upper thighs. His trim legs are bare, long and pale, utterly smooth right down to the gold sandals around his slender feet. The neck-hole of the sweater stretches wide across his shoulders, barely even covering all of his chest, because Bilbo is used to making presents for dwarves and wasn’t sure what to do with the sizing. Lindir doesn’t seem to mind. He wears the plush cream-coloured wool proudly and coos, “Why, Bilbo, I am glad to see you. I must thank you again for your kind present—it is wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo chuckles. Then he opens his mouth to explain to the poor dear that it’s meant to be worn with _pants_ , except Lindir’s attention diverts over Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Lord Elrond,” he greets, dipping into a smooth bow. When he rises, there’s a light flush across his cheeks, his affection obvious. At least, it’s obvious to Bilbo. Elves seem much slower in that particular department, because as far as Bilbo knows, Elrond has yet to claim the pretty young thing so madly in love with him.

Bilbo turns, and sure enough, Elrond’s standing there. Normally, they would exchange greetings too, except Elrond seems much too entranced in Lindir’s legs to bother with Bilbo. His gaze is locked on them, a blank expression on his face, as though the scintillating view has wiped all thought from his mind. Bilbo is fond enough of Elrond to allow him that moment.

When their mutual but unresolved pining becomes too difficult to stand between, Bilbo clears his throat. Elrond startles and acknowledges, “Bilbo.” Then he tells Lindir, “That is, ah... quite an outfit you wear, my songbird.”

“Thank you,” Lindir answers, smile stretching ridiculously wide and eyes twinkling with the complement. He always falls apart under Elrond’s praise. “Bilbo was kind enough to make it for me.”

“It is lovely.” Except Elrond isn’t looking at the sweater at all, but Lindir’s soft thighs. 

Bilbo makes the executive decision to excuse himself from their moment. He mutters, “Perhaps I’ll come back later.” And he waddles off, neither of his smitten friends so much as noticing.


End file.
